Review by Booklist Review
Tony has always felt like an outsider, but when bullying from his classmates leads to a suicide attempt (which, very importantly, is not depicted), he's successfully able to use therapy and friends at a new school as a meaningful support system, later giving support back to his new school as it faces closure. Drawing from his real-life experience, Weaver creates an easily relatable story of overcoming obstacles and finding peace within yourself. Structured as a series of vignettes, the book can come off as incohesive, as it deals with everything from bullying and making friends to the more tangential topics of unrequited first love and crowdsourcing support for a failing school. Some of these points tie well to the main plot, but others seem to appear only briefly. The appealing, anime-inspired artwork perfectly captures the uplifiting tone, making great use of cartoonish expressions for big emotions and thoughtful color palettes during the depths of Tony's depressive episode. Some big endorsements will give this added interest, including one from Jerry Craft, whose New Kid is an ideal read-alike.
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
A Black 11-year-old faces a gauntlet of obstacles in debut author Weaver's uplifting graphic novel memoir, which examines issues surrounding the pressures of fitting in, mental health, and suicide. Tony Weaver Jr. has "been the new kid so many times it doesn't feel new anymore," a fact that buoys him as he starts at yet another new school. But he's bullied by other students for bringing toys to class and by Black peers for his demeanor ("You think he asked to get put in the Oreo section?"). Everything is made worse by his grief over his late grandmother. Shifting color palettes convey the effects of these experiences--richly colored drawings by the Wibowos (Lunar Boy), embellished with superhero comic emanata, fade to b&w as Weaver's loneliness deepens. Illustrations eventually move back to vibrant hues as Weaver begins to heal following a suicide attempt, an event that leads his parents to send him to a psychologist and another new, predominantly Black school, where he befriends like-minded "weirdos." It all culminates in a touching story of belonging, in which Weaver realistically depicts the many small steps required to becoming one's own hero. Ages 10--14. (Sept.)
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Review by Kirkus Book Review
After enduring relentless bullying, a boy learns how to embrace his true self with the support of family and fellow blerds. Debut author Weaver got used to being the new kid; in this graphic memoir, he shows how he relied on his love of comics, anime, and video games to navigate challenges. But entering seventh grade at an elite pressure cooker of a school was different--those passions made Tony a target of vicious bullying; feeling trapped, he attempted to die by suicide. Soon after, he reluctantly started therapy and entered a new school, this time determined not to stand out. But Tony found the Literature Club, bonded with other delightfully nerdy Black students, and rekindled his love of writing, gradually realizing that being unapologetically himself was exactly what heshould do. Tony's journey to joy and self-love is funny, relatable, and empowering. His story is rendered in a simple yet dynamic art style that skillfully uses different colors plus video game and comic motifs to reflect his emotional state and growth. The artwork grounds the otherwise abstract journey of self-discovery, delivering a nuanced depiction of healing from fear and a reminder that we can all become the hero. Fans of Jerry Craft and Jarrett Krosoczka will appreciate this honest, hopeful portrayal of recovery from even the darkest places. Readers will also enjoy spotting the many anime and gaming references. A powerful, poignant reminder that you are always worth fighting for. (author's note)(Graphic memoir. 10-16) Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
